


Best Seats

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-16
Updated: 2003-11-16
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Free Movie Tickets can be fun, or canâ€™t they?





	Best Seats

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

It all started with Justin coming home from PIFA holding up two movie tickets. I sat on the couch, flipping through some catalogue, and barely raised my head, when he barreled into the loft in his typical manner. He can’t open the door like a normal human being, he tears it open and then kind of slams it shut – as far as slamming is possible with a door like ours. 

 

“Hey,” he said, plopping on the couch beside me, nudging my shoulder with his. “Can you be a little more excited, please? These are free tickets for a movie premiere.”

 

I let my tongue wander in my cheek, before looking up with what I hoped was a piercing glare, “I’m not broke.”

 

He rolled his eyes, “God, you’re unbelievable. As if saving money is a sin. Plus, a lot of hotties are in the movie.”

 

“Hotties, huh?” I asked, still not really paying attention. Not that I generally had a problem with nice pecs or a hot ass, but can you really see me sitting in a movie theatre, holding hands with my partner? Okay, sure, I used to do it with Mikey, but that doesn’t mean Justin and I have to do it, too. 

 

“Yep,” Justin said smugly, as always ignoring my less than excited reaction. 

 

I finally took the tickets from his hand and looked at them. “Black Hawk Down? That’s some fucking war movie. I’m not into that kind of shit.”

 

He shrugged, not at least impressed by my lack of enthusiasm. Instead he took the tickets back and placed them on the table, leaning his head against my shoulder. “Does it matter? I mean, they’re for free. We’re on the balcony and it’s dark and-“

 

I interrupted him with a snicker, finally starting to warm up to his way of thinking. “You have a dirty mind, Taylor.”

 

He grinned at me through lowered lashes, “Of course I have. I’m living with you after all.”

 

“Someone seems eager to get spanked.” I gave him what I hoped was a long, threatening look and the little fucker snickered. Snickered! 

 

It’s as I always said, fall in love and you’re doomed. Okay, so it didn’t quite happen the way I thought. I mean, we’re actually kind of good together, and we even fit – most of the time, but it can be lethal for your ego if you have someone in your life who knows you better than you know yourself.

 

“Yeah, sure. And I’m already shivering in my pants,” he said, standing up and swaggering to the counter to pour himself a glass of my most expensive whiskey.

 

Did you listen to that? See what I mean? Christ, I’m so fucked. 

 

“You can start with the spanking any time you want,” he then remarked casually, sipping from his drink with and grinning at me while doing it. As soon as the glass was empty, he turned towards the bedroom and when he was up the stairs he looked at me over his shoulder, “I need a shower. What about you?”

 

I watched him disappearing from my view through narrowed eyes, but as soon as I heard the shower starting to run, I sighed and got up. Not that I was dirty or anything. 

 

Didn’t I say I’m so fucked?

 

*****

 

It won’t really surprise you to hear that a week later I found myself at said movie-theatre, a thoroughly excited Justin almost jumping up and down beside me. 

 

“I never went to a premiere before,” he said for what had to be the hundredth time. “Those are for the best seats, you know,” he added, holding up the two tickets. 

 

“Uh-huh,” I replied absentmindedly, trying to keep my new suit from getting totally crumpled in the crowd around the entrance. Or my shoes from being ruined by being stepped on from all sides.

 

“I heard some of the actors will be here, too.”

 

This time I didn’t react in any way and just as expected received a hard nudge to my side. “Ouch,” I exclaimed and glared at my partner. 

 

He rolled his eyes, “You’re such a baby. This is fun. Don’t try to pretend it isn’t. I know you love to show your new Armani stuff to the public.”

 

See? He knows me. far. too. well. “Shut up,” I mumbled, directing my glare at an oversized woman who thought my new Pradas were made solely for her to rest her high heels on.

 

“Oh, sorry,” she gave me what could have passed as an apologetic smile any other time.

 

Tonight it merely annoyed me but for Justin’s sake – yep, I sometimes do things just because of him – I ignored it. I was sure that an open argument right in front of the entrance wasn’t his idea of a relaxed evening. 

 

“Hey Justin!”

 

My head snapped around at the sound of the distinctly male voice, and my gaze fell on six foot two – at least – dark hair, blue eyes, thoroughly fuckable, even if a bit young.

 

“Mathieu!” The famous Justin smile almost split my lover’s face. “What are you doing here?”

 

“My sister gave me the tickets for my last birthday,” fuckable Mathieu (what kind of guy has a name like Mathieu anyway?) said, his eyes flickering to me. Aha, he had seen Justin’s hand in mine, no doubt. Then with a saccharine sweet afterthought he added, “I was twenty-eight.”

 

I let my right eyebrow move up half an inch, “You don’t say?”

 

Justin shot me an irritated glance, before introducing us, “Brian, that’s Mathieu Melcher. He’s an exchange student from Toronto. Mathieu, this is Brian Kinney, my boyfriend.”

 

I really don’t like it very much when he calls me his boyfriend, but tonight I thought it sounded nice. Especially as Mathieu’s face fell immediately. But he recovered quickly and smiled at us. “Mon Dieu, what a beautiful couple you are.”

 

Giving him my sweetest smile, the one my friends have learned to be very scared of, I asked, “So, Matt, what brings you to Pittsburgh?” Not that I was really interested, but it was always good to know who you were dealing with. And the way Mr. Fuckable’s eyes were wandering up and down Justin’s body, to finally come to a halt on his ass, irked me – a little.

 

“Mathieu,” he corrected in a sing-song voice that made the little hairs in my neck stand up straight. “As Justin said, I’m an exchange student.”

 

“You’re an artist?” 

 

“I’m playing the flute,” the guy replied, and I could’ve sworn his mouth was watering at the idea of Justin’s ass naked in front of him. His eyes were bulging out of his head already. 

 

And then it hit me. A musician. What was that with them and Justin? “The violin, too?” I asked, keeping my face expressionless – or so I hoped. Not that it could fool Justin, but Matt – pardon, Mathieu, the wonderful didn’t know me yet. And I really planned to keep it that way. 

 

Justin’s eyes widened at the comment, then narrowed, making it perfectly clear he didn’t like the direction in which the conversation was heading. “Mathieu is living with his boyfriend,” he said ever so softly. 

 

And what did that have to do with everything? When was a boyfriend a problem? Okay, I’m using my standards here, but hey, if they are good for me, others might use them as well. Plus, I have this little problem with musical types, you know. “Ah,” was all I said, then turned back to Mr. tall, dark, and – grudgingly admitted – gorgeous. “Tell me, Mathieu,” I said, letting the name linger on my tongue, hoping it would come out like an insult, “where is this boyfriend of yours tonight.”

 

“Oh, Roger has a concert. He’s a pianist.”

 

He pronounced the name the French way, which really made it sound silly. “Roger, huh? Is he an exchange student, too?”

 

“No,” Mathieu shook his head with a laugh, “he’s from Pittsburgh. And he’s not really my boyfriend. We’re just living together.” The last comment was directed at Justin, holding a lot more meaning than I was comfortable with. Not that I’d ever admit it, but I felt this slight flutter in my gut. I am really so fucked.

 

“It’s a pity,” I said, placing a casual hand on Justin’s shoulder – it never hurts to stake your claim – “but neither Justin nor I like classical music a lot. But I’m sure you’re a genius.”

 

He laughed at that, “Oh, no. I’m no genius. Just someone who likes music.” Then he frowned, “But Justin told me that he liked classical music. He said he used to listen to violin concertos.”

 

“Did he now?” I said, gazing deeply into blue eyes. 

 

“Used,” Justin said quickly. “Past tense. I’m not into that stuff anymore.”

 

That sounded a lot better. “He outgrew that phase,” I tossed at Mathieu.

 

He sighed, “Sorry to hear that. Well,” he shrugged, “I need to get back to my date.” He pointed at a nerdy looking blond. 

 

“Okay,” Justin replied with a smile. “Enjoy the movie.”

 

“You too,” Mathieu said, his eyes lingering on Justin for another moment. Then he turned and joined the nerd in the other line. 

 

*****

 

As soon as we were seated, Justin tore into me – not that I expected anything else. He gave me the patented Taylor-narrow-eyed look, “Jesus, Brian. Jealous much?”

 

I laughed as if it was the most outrageous idea ever, “I don’t do jealous. You know that, Justin.”

 

“Yeah. Sure.” The little shit grinned at me. Grinned! Jesus. 

 

“I don’t,” I insisted and wondered if it sounded a little too desperate. 

 

He snickered, and started to eat his popcorn. Of course he had to have the stuff. Buttered, too. He’s almost twenty, but can still eat what he wants – little fucker. His mouth half-full, he turned back to me, “Mathieu is so not my type. More yours I’d say.”

 

“I’m not into babies,” I snapped.

 

He laughed, “Since when?”

 

“He can’t be more than eighteen.” It was a guess, but Mathieu looked as if he wasn’t quite out of the pampers yet.

 

“So?” he asked stuffing another hand full of popcorn into his mouth. 

 

“I’ve had all the teenage stalkers I can manage,” I replied sweetly, finally giving in, and reaching into the bowl on Justin’s lap.

 

“You really shouldn’t,” he said, completely straight faced. “Think about all the hours on the treadmill you will need to get rid of all the fat after seven.”

 

I glared at him, and started eating the fatty stuff. The little shit really thought he’d figured me out. “When this movie is over, you can take a cab home,” I told him. “I need the car.”

 

Startled blue eyes widened, “But it’s, like, in the middle of the night then. Where would you …,” he trailed off, his face falling. “Oh.”

 

There, take that.

 

“You know,” he mumbled when the lights were dimmed, “going to the baths because you can’t deal with things isn’t very mature.”

 

Fuck! I really hate it when he’s reading me like a book. And it’s worse when he knows it. He’s so thoroughly figured me out, it should scare me to death. Strangely enough it doesn’t. Maybe that’s the real miracle of our relationship. “Okay,” I said, albeit grudgingly, “you can drive back the car.”

 

He swallowed the last of his popcorn and shook his head, “I don’t want to drive the Testosterone on wheels. I’m not that old.” 

 

“You are so going to pay for that one,” I threatened. “I’m not old. I’m not even thirty three.”

 

“But soon.”

 

Of course he had to say that. “Well, your times as a sweet little teenage boy are over, too.”

 

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sweet smile, “but I still have almost a decade before I hit the big 3-0.”

 

Fucker. 

 

“Shhhh.”

 

With a glare I met the disapproving eyes of the man behind us, “Do you mind. We are having a serious discussion here.”

 

“Brian, this is a movie theatre. One’s supposed to be quiet.” Justin gave the man an apologetic glance. “Sorry for that.”

 

“It’s okay,” the guy replied. 

 

“Why are you apologizing for me?” I hissed.

 

“Because you’re behaving ridiculously. I never even thought about fucking Mathieu. Plus, this really is a movie theatre.”

 

“This is not about fucking Mathieu,” I insisted, my voice louder again. 

 

“Be quiet or leave. There are people who’re trying to watch. The tickets were expensive you know.”

 

Again the guy from behind us. 

 

“Fuck off,” I hissed, turning back to Justin who glared at me.

 

“You’re right, it’s not about fucking Mathieu. Brian,” he put the now empty popcorn-bowl down, and reached over to touch my arm. “I’m not going to repeat Ethan with Mathieu. I promised I wouldn’t. And I won’t break the promise.”

 

A year ago I would’ve turned away and made some stupid comment about who Ian was, but it was a year later now, and I had spent that year with Justin, trying to pick up the pieces of our fucked up relationship, and trying to find new grounds. We had worked hard to be where we were today. I had finally admitted that I gave a shit, and because I did, I didn’t just turn away mumbling something incoherent about stupid violin-players.

 

Instead I looked at him for a long time, and then said, “Sometimes I have a hard time remembering that.”

 

His eyes watered a little, “I know I hurt you.”

 

“I hurt you, too,” I admitted. It’s another proof of how hard we worked that I can now say something like that. “He’s gorgeous” I added, lowering my gaze to his hand on my arm. 

 

I heard Justin laugh slightly, “Yeah. He’s great. And sexy. But you know what?”

 

My head came up, “What?”

 

He grinned, “I have all the sex I can handle.”

 

Who wouldn’t smile at an answer like that, “Is that so?”

 

“Uh-huh,” he nodded, leaning over. “I love you.”

 

“Yeah, me too.” I mean, I don’t actually have to say it, right? He knows it anyway. 

 

And then he kissed me. Sweetly at first but it soon turned into a full-blown, toe-curling sort of lip-fusing, that left me thoroughly breathless after it ended. His eyes were bright and his cheeks were flushed. 

 

“Oh geez, now I have to watch faggots getting at it.”

 

Again the guy. But before I could say anything a female voice said, “Shut up, Frank. Better watch. Those guys at least know how to kiss properly.” 

 

Justin and I stared into each others eyes, our foreheads still together, and we laughed. My heart was beating like a jack-hammer and I was glad the pants weren’t all that tight. “You really want to see the movie?” I asked, letting my voice drop enough to make my intentions very clear.

 

He licked his lips, “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

 

I let my tongue curl a little, then smiled, “Yeah. Kind of.”

 

Justin’s pupils widened ever so slightly and I saw him swallow – hard. “Let’s go,” he whispered, and was out of his seat before I could even blink. 

 

Grinning to myself I got up, but not without catching the gaze of the woman next to the guy behind us. She was grinning, too. “Have fun,” she whispered when I went past her.

 

My grin getting impossibly wider, I winked at her. “We will,” I promised. 

 

There was no doubt at all that we would.


End file.
